


It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas

by hma1313



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-19
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-09-09 20:16:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8910517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hma1313/pseuds/hma1313
Summary: The next day, there’s a real Christmas tree standing in the entrance lobby of the apartment building. Ian’s neighbour is up on a ladder, balancing precariously as he puts baubles on the branches, singing along to the playlist of Christmas music that’s been on repeat since the middle of November.“...we’re simply having a wonderful Christmas time…”“For fuck’s sake,” Ian mutters as he leaves the building, wondering if he can think of way to complain to his landlord about it all. -In which Mickey plays Christmas music too loudly, Ian has had enough, and there are far too many Christmas decorations.





	

_“Snow is falling, all around us, children playing, having fun…”_

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” It’s the third morning this week that Ian has woken up to the sound of Christmas music being blasted in the apartment next door, the third morning this week Ian has been woken up an hour before his alarm, the third morning this week that sees Ian banging on the wall in between their apartment with his fist, yelling at his neighbour to shut the fuck up already.

It’s still November. There’s still leftover turkey from Thanksgiving in the fridge and yet here his neighbour is, playing Christmas music loudly at 7am like it’s Christmas Eve and the kids are trying to stay up to see Santa.

It’s ridiculous, and Ian has had enough.

He bangs on the wall a few times, but just gets greeted with the Shakin’ Stevens getting turned up in response.

When he leaves his apartment half an hour later to go to work, he spots that his neighbour already has put their Christmas wreath up their front door.

Ian’s not even surprised.

When Ian gets home from work that evening, he finds his neighbour sitting in the hallway, untangling strings of fairy lights. As the wire is untangled and stretches even further down the corridor, Ian’s neighbour is humming along to the music on his phone that Ian recognises as the carol O Little Town of Bethlehem. Ian simply sighs and carefully steps over the strings of lights as he unlocks his apartment door so he can get away from the madness.

“Sorry,” his neighbour says as Ian’s pushing open the door, “I ran out of room in my apartment so I had to come out here.”

“It’s _November_ ,” Ian spits.

“So?”

“So it’s not even December! Christmas is a month away!”

“I’m just being prepared.”

“You ever think you might be a little too prepared?”

His neighbour smirks. “Nah,” he says. “It pisses people like you off, so no.”

“What do you mean, people like me?”

“The ‘Christmas should be kept in December!’ crowd. Miserable fuckers.”

“Christmas is in December, though.”

“And last Sunday was the first Sunday of Advent, so technically –”

“I’m not here to listen to the technicalities of Christmas.”

“Alright, you fucking grinch. Calm down. Listen to some carols, it’ll help.”

Ian steps into his apartment and slams the door behind him, trying to ignore the sound of his neighbour laughing in the hallway outside.

It doesn’t necessarily work.

The next day, there’s a real Christmas tree standing in the entrance lobby of the apartment building. Ian’s neighbour is up on a ladder, balancing precariously as he puts baubles on the branches, singing along to the playlist of Christmas music that’s been on repeat since the middle of November.

_“we’re simply having a wonderful Christmas time…”_

“For fuck’s sake,” Ian mutters as he leaves the building, wondering if he can think of way to complain to his landlord about it all.

“Ay, Mickey, what do you think? That straight or what?”

Ian gets back from visiting his family back home on Saturday to find his neighbour in the middle of supervising some guys putting Christmas lights up on the outside of the apartment building. Granted, it is now December, but it’s still a bit too early for Ian’s liking. Christmas is everywhere now that the calendars have turned over to the last month of the year, and it’s hard to avoid it unless you refuse to leave your flat for the entirety of the festive season.

“Iggy, that shit’s about as straight as me. Sort it the fuck out, okay?” he turns round and sees Ian standing there, staring at the huge ‘Merry Christmas’ lettering currently hanging on somewhat of an angle above the doorway. “Like what we’ve done with the place?”

“Very festive,” Ian says, forcing a smile onto his face.

His neighbour smirks. “Gallagher, right?”

“Yeah. Ian.”

“Well, Ian, if you need any help putting your Christmas tree up this year, just let me know.” There’s a slightly suggestive tone to it that Ian doesn’t really know what to make of, so he opts for a smile, a genuine one this time, before shifting his bag on his shoulder and walking into the apartment building.

The next time Ian goes down to the basement to do his laundry, he finds strings of fairy lights strung around the place along with lengths of tinsel and a few baubles hanging from the ceiling in the corners. Despite himself, Ian finds himself smiling to himself as he separates out his whites and colours.

“I like what you’ve done with the laundry,” Ian says when he bumps into Mickey when they’re collecting their post. “I mean, I presume it was you.”

“Yeah, had a spare evening and a box of decorations I wasn’t using, so thought I’d make it a bit more festive. You decorated your place yet?”

“I always go home for the holidays so I don’t bother. No point it being there if there’s no one to look at it.”

Mickey pauses reading the letter he’s holding. “You don’t decorate your apartment?” he asks.

Ian shrugs. “Like I said, not much point.” He locks up his mailbox and sorts through his post so the most important stuff is at the front. “What?”

Mickey tries to shake the disbelieving look from his face. “That’s not happening,” he says. “Not on my watch. You’re decorating your apartment, Gallagher.”

Ian raises his eyebrows. “I am?”

“Of course you fucking are.”

Ian is woken up on Sunday morning not to the sound of Wizzard screaming through the wall about how they wish it could be Christmas every day, but to the sound of someone banging on his front door. When Ian pulls his phone from his bedside table to check the time, 7:12 AM stares back at him mockingly, seemingly laughing against his background.

“What the fuck do you want?” he snaps when he opens the door.

“Apartment decorating time,” Mickey says, shoving a box of baubles into Ian’s hands. “Where do you want the tree?”

Perhaps rather stupidly, Ian thought that you could just shove decorations anywhere on the tree and it’d probably look okay in the end. Mickey, though, isn’t having any of that.

“You have to think about how you want it to look at the end,” he says as he wraps strings of beads around the tree. Ian looks him at him rather dubiously, so he adds, “Do you want it to look like a fucking first grader chucked a load of baubles at it and hoped for the best? No? Thought no. You take this and – no, Gallagher, not there, what the fuck?”

Several hours later, Ian collapses onto the couch feeling utterly exhausted. There isn’t a room in his apartment that hasn’t been infected with the Christmas spirit. Towels with Christmas trees stitched on them hang in the bathroom. Fairy lights are draped over every available bookshelf and pin board. Baubles hang from light fitments and Ian’s bed now has reindeer patterned sheets. Even the kitchen now proudly sports a Christmas themed tea towels and pair of oven gloves.

The tree, though, is by far the most impressive. Over six foot tall and covered in decorations, it dominates Ian’s living room, but it looks so great that Ian doesn’t really care that he had to reorganise his furniture to accommodate it.

“Well, I guess I’d better get going, then,” Mickey says, picking up a stack of boxes from next to the tree. “Get out of your hair, or whatever.”

“Or you could stay,” Ian offers. “There’s a six pack of beer in the fridge, we can order pizza and watch whatever shitty Christmas movie is showing on TV.”

“You serious?” Mickey asks, shifting his boxes around in his arms. “You want me to stay?”

“Yeah,” Ian says. “I do.”

So Mickey stays. And he stays for many Christmases to come.

**Author's Note:**

> hang out with me on [tumblr](http://pllsetskyonice.tumblr.com/) for a questionable mix of fandoms and ships


End file.
